


July 16th - A Visit From The British Government

by geekoncaffeine



Series: On Tuesday’s We Are Decidedly CLOSED [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Other, Parentlock, Shopping, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), Sweet Crowley (Good Omens), Toddler In Need Of Nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekoncaffeine/pseuds/geekoncaffeine
Summary: Mycroft Holmes did not find himself out of his element often, if at all. But even a minor government official had his days. No Anthea, an overtired toddler, trying to get a first-anniversary gift for his husband at an odd bookshop...what could go wrong?





	July 16th - A Visit From The British Government

**Author's Note:**

> Again my thanks to [ goddessinsepia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessinsepia/pseuds/goddessinsepia) for the polish/beta on this one. You rock!

Mycroft Holmes did not find himself out of his element often, if at all. But even a minor government official had his days.* His most trusted assistant was in a training seminar -- in order to stay his most trusted assistant. Which meant he was now saddled with this junior arse kiss of an assistant who knew nothing at all, and would be of very little use to him today. Adding to his headache, his brother-in-law had texted, asking if he might pick up his niece as they had a case.

He had always told his brother and brother-in-law he would happily take little Rosamund at a moment’s notice. Surprisingly, he had a soft spot for children. They were innocent and generally easier to be around than most adults. Besides, his superiors were very understanding of family needs.**

However, he was not expecting they would need him _today_. It was his first wedding anniversary, and tending to his niece so they could run after a killer put him out just a bit. But it also meant his husband, DI Gregory Lestrade, was also occupied, so he could pick up the book he had Anthea place on hold for him last week, at the only shop in town that carried the particular volume on Ripperology he knew Gregory would enjoy. 

So here he was at one in the afternoon with an overtired toddler in the car, no assistant, and the start of a headache, standing outside of a very closed bookshop on a Tuesday afternoon. 

Shifting his ever-present umbrella to the crook of his elbow, Mycroft raised his hand to knock and was moderately startled when the door popped opened and he nearly knocked the blonde man on the head! “Beg your pardon Mr. —“

“Fell, Mr. Fell. Would you be the gentleman here to pick up the book on that horrible man?”

“Yes, ‘Leather Apron or the Horrors of Whitechapel’, might I come in?”

“Oh yes, your assistant said you’d be by, and if I’m quite honest I’ll be rather happy to have this out of my shop.” Aziraphale stepped aside to allow the taller man to enter. “Let me just go and collect it from the back. She mentioned you wanted it wrapped. I was just getting to that bit. Won’t be a moment.” 

Aziraphale rushed to the backroom to wrap up the book. Crowley was just waking from his nap on the old red velvet couch as usual. 

“Thought it was Tuesday, angel? Closed Tuesdays.” He arched off the couch as he stretched his full length. 

“Well, yes. But this was apparently the only day the gentleman could pick up the book and here he is. Poor man looks rather out of sorts... and yet well-polished at the same time.” The angel took down some plain brown paper and twine and began setting to the task at hand. 

Curiosity got the best of Crowley and he popped off the couch to take a peek out at the out-of-sorts posh pants disrupting his nap. He couldn’t see much as the man had his back to him, but he did admire the nice cut of his suit. Black pinstripe, very sharp, screamed “government”. It wasn’t until he turned that he nearly lost his shit. “Stay. Here. Angel.”

“Well, where else am I going to --? Crowley...”

“Can I help you, Mr. Harmony?” Crowley asked, cutting to the chase. _Fucking Nazis_.

“Beg pardon?” Mycroft closed the first edition, Wilde, he had been looking at while he waited. “The name is Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and you are?” He held out his hand.***

“Anthony J. Crowley. So, not a Nazi?” Crowley blurted. 

“Certainly not! Though I’m told there was one on our mother’s side here in London in 1941. A change of bombing plans took care of that black mark on the family tree.”**** Mycroft was about to ask what would ever possess the man to ask such a question -- and why he’d freely answered it -- when the front door pushed open and Rosamund rushed into him. “Why aren’t you in the car?” 

She promptly burst into tears and buried her face between her blanket and her uncle’s trouser leg. He looked down at his very tired niece and back at his security detail who only shrugged. Mycroft sighed. He was rubbish with his niece when she was this far gone past her nap.

Aziraphale came out of the back with the wrapped book to see what the latest commotion was about. Seeing the crying toddler, he had just the thing. One of his magic tricks. “Hello there.” Once he had her attention, he reached toward her ear and ‘produced’ a coin. “Ta-da”

Rosie again burst into louder hysterics. Mycroft looked as though he wanted to find the nearest hole to crawl into and Crowley just shook his head.

“I’m terribly sorry I… I’m usually so good with children.” Aziraphale straightened.

“Angel, you are rubbish with children.” The demon stepped forward and squatted down in front of the little girl. “Hi. I’m Anthony. You look like you could use a story and a nap.” The little girl sniffed and nodded. Crowley stood and held out a hand and wasn’t at all surprised when the girl took it. “Think you could use this.” From out of nowhere, he tossed a packet of paracetamol to Mycroft, and led Rosie to the bench that had appeared in the small children’s section, just under Rupert.*****

Mycroft and Aziraphale both remained where they were both, in different kinds of shock of what they had just seen. First, Mycroft would not have suspected this man, who looked as though he walked off a runway and had just asked if he was a Nazi, of all things, would be so gentle with children. Second, there was no way those trousers could hold anything, let alone a packet of paracetamol.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, knew Crowley was wonderful with children. After all, he’d been a nanny for five years, hadn’t he? But he’d never seen him _interact_ with children before. This was a new side he was seeing and he liked it. He liked it very much. The British Government and the angel watched the demon select a book for the little girl, something to do with a mischievous sheep named Shaun, tuck her blanket round her and begin to read.

Crowley had hardly finished the second page of the book when he felt the little girl slump into his side and her light breathing. She was fast asleep. So he did what anyone in that situation would do: keep reading just in case. Turned out it wasn’t half bad. By the time he had finished, Aziraphale and Mycroft were done with their transaction and the man was ready to depart. Crowley ever so gently picked the girl up and offered to carry her out to the car.

Once they were all in, both men waved as the car headed north towards Baker Street. “That was lovely of you my dear.” Aziraphale beamed.

“Don’t mention it, angel. Oh, and put that book on my… uh… tab.”

“Book?”

“Mmm. The one I was reading the girl. Tucked it into her blanket when I carried her out. She’ll want to know how it ends.” He turned to go back into the shop.

“Right, yes. You know, I think I still have a bottle or two of that red you like. If you like?” He was smiling so wide now it couldn’t be helped. He knew there was love in Crowley yet. Following the demon inside, he flipped the lock and made sure the closed sign was perfectly in place.

Later that evening

Mycroft had safety returned a still sleeping Rosamund to her fathers, and noted the book that had fallen out of the blanket when John put her on the couch. It was a nice gesture. He was now home and had poured himself a scotch, left the wrapped book where Gregory would easily find it and was finishing some work in his office before his husband arrived home.

He heard the front door open as he was leaving his office with his phone in hand. There was one more text to send. But the phone was plucked from his fingers before he was finished.

“Ah, you promised! No work once you were home for the day, love. Especially tonight.” Greg leaned a shoulder on the door to Mycroft’s office and tucked the smartphone that could likely start WWIII in his shirt pocket. 

His husband stood in front of him, a slight pout on his face. “Yes, yes. Can’t be helped. Two minutes and I’m all yours.” He held out his hand and smiled as Greg dropped the phone in his hand. 

“Any longer than two minutes and I’m coming back with my handcuffs.” He grinned as he turned away, whistling as he went. 

_Might be worth it to take an extra minute this time_. Mycroft typed his text a tad slower to Anthea.

 _Upgrade the surveillance status to Grade Three Active on a Mr. A. Z. Fell and Mr. Anthony J. Crowley_. 

Mycroft hit send and secured his phone for the evening. He wouldn’t be needing it again until morning. In the meantime, he had other plans in mind. 

*He was the British Government  
**He was his superior  
***You bet your arse he’d always wanted to say that.  
****Demonic interventions were a hell of a thing  
*****In case of crying child use of any and all miracles are pre-approved

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make me happy and keep me typing.
> 
> Find me on twitter at GeekOnCaffeine


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